Vini Vidi Vici
by the-brightest-fell
Summary: AU/Oneshot thingy-He came. He saw. He conquered. That was the story of her people.


**A/N: **I have no idea what this is or where it came from so...please don't hurt me. It was a weird little thing-a-ma-bobber that just begged to be written so I was like *shrug* alrighty then. I _should _be working on more important things like my term paper or A Pair of Souls (which I am), but...this came to life during a break.

**Disclaimer: **Nope, nope, nope. Soul Eater no esta mio. Also, the image is not mine either. Like at all. Although it did sort of inspire some of this.

* * *

Veni. Vidi. Vici.

He came. He saw. He conquered.

That was the story of her people.

No one could explain where he fell from. The theories ranged from a lost spirit climbing out of the pits of Tartarus to a wrathful god descended from the Heavens to enact his vengeful will. It entertained him that these legends were half-right. More right than anyone would ever know.

But no one knew the whole story.

No one ever would if he had his way.

It started with fire and brimstone.

Blood and destruction had always been his favorite mediums of retribution and creation.

Madness and darkness, red and black, he wielded his weapons with the utmost precision and efficiency. There was never any escape.

So when he stumbled across the gleaming, ethereal city with its white-stone walls, golden accents, and joyful, carefree population he was struck with the inevitable desire to watch it crumble to dust. He wanted it to be covered in darkness and black blood. He yearned for the pure souls residing within to settle inside of him, forever locked in the limbo of not living but not dying either. It was a sick, rotten habit of his…a part of his very core that he hated with all of his being.

Such a pity that his loathed insanity was what propelled him and controlled him. Drove him and moved him. There wasn't much else he felt inside…so it was either this or eternal slumber. And as much as he loved sleep, one had to wake up eventually. The living nightmares that he inflicted, though painful and full of despair, were nothing compared to what he endured alone in his dormant mind.

He was selfish and he admitted it. A deplorable, disgusting creature. A monster who fed on the suffering of others to ease his own agony.

He came. He saw. He conquered. That was his way of life.

Until this time…this time only two out of three were correct and completed. Well, he supposed it depended on who was asked…to some it would appear he had done all three. He knew the truth though. And for once he was very thankful for the natures he buried in the depths of his twisted, bitter self.

He came—running and dancing and traveling amongst hills and mountains, swinging his scythe at anything that lived and breathed, and gathering the souls to eat. He came—with utter derangement and no sense of mercy, recklessly demolishing pillars of gold and pure, colorless glass as well as extinguishing every entity within his reach.

Despite how nicely things turned out, he would never be able to forgive himself for the innocent blood that stained his hands. Every now and then, more often than he liked to admit, he would stare and see the shimmering, haunting reminder of palms colored a rich, glaring maroon color as if he had crushed pomegranates between his fists.

She claimed she never saw the ghostly reminders of his transgressions…but he knew better. He knew because whenever he would be trapped in the remembrance of something equally hard and soft meeting the curve of his blade, something hot and burning splashing across his face and oozing in between fingers, and those horrid screams wailing before echoing off into oblivion as the rip and tear of flesh and bone torn to pieces replaced them…she would be at his side in a second, whispering words that calmed the fragile flutters of his heart.

Gods, when did he even _acquire _a heart?

What a stupid question. He would have to be dead to forget that moment. And even then, he doubted his demise and end of existence would tear her from his soul.

Because he _saw_ her. _Her_. Or perhaps the more accurate statement was she saw _him_.

And that was when everything changed.

He was about to conquer. About to cut down the leader of this sumptuous, luxurious metropolis—a man with a defiant, enraged gaze brimming with liquid gold and hair too black against his stark white abode, three stripes on one side throwing his otherwise symmetric appearance off—when he heard a shout behind him.

"Don't you _dare_!"

The man with hawkish amber eyes and hair darker than raven's feathers suddenly drifted into a hazy panic at the cry. His pupils dilated in what the intruder could only call complete fear and hysteria, strangled breaths exploding from his pale lips.

"_I told you to get out of here_! _Run, Maka_! _Run away, _now!"

But it was too late.

Interested in what could draw such a reaction from the once stoic being before him and compelled by another unknown, indescribable force, the Soul Eater turned to glimpse the noisemaker.

She was small. Oh, so very small, especially compared to the two men in the temple with her. And she looked so terribly breakable, as though the gentlest caress could shatter her porcelain skin into infinite pieces. She wasn't necessarily beautiful, too thin and lacking to fulfill a true man's taste, but there was something radiant she emitted…something powerful and old and angelic that left whoever was blessed enough to admire her lost, dazed, and completely at peace.

Hair a greyish blonde, the exact color of ash meeting gold, extended finely to the tip of her pronounced collarbone. The length of a warrior's mane rather than that of a lady's virtue, though she hardly appeared as either. Yet the Soul Eater found himself entranced in the exquisite and crisp glare of sparkling tsavorite crystals and, despite his sardonic appraisal of this woman, he felt without any inkling of doubt that she _belonged_ to him.

However, madness will not disappear without a fight.

The demon smirked, purposefully flashing his incisors at her in the hopes she would flinch in fear. Surprisingly, her steely glower simply worsened. Nonetheless, his demonic nature was not dissuaded so effortlessly.

"Well, well, well. Come to save your precious master or have you come to watch his bitter end? Either way I hope you realize as soon as I am done with his soul, I intend to possess yours."

The so-called master spluttered, viciously trying to relinquish the monster's hold on him. He could not allow her to die. He _would not _allow her to die. Especially not at the asymmetric teeth of this abomination.

"Maka, run! That's an order! Flee the city and contact my father! Immediately!"

The destroyer's grin widened at his prey's pleas for her safety. Surely they both knew that he would not allow her to retreat. Not when she had thrown herself so willingly into the fire.

Besides, she did not appear pleased with the suggestion of surrender and he smelt her disdain for such a plan. No, she would not leave. She definitely would not leave her "master."

This thought brought forth a fearsome bitterness towards the man who writhed in his loathsome clutches. He did not like the idea of her giving herself to him as appeasement for this other man's life. In fact, the idea was so repugnant that it sparked a sharp, sour taste in his mouth. He bit his tongue to wash away the sensation and swallowed the mixture of blood and sadness.

In his fit of anger and heartbreak, he slammed the woman's leader against the wall, silencing his cries for her safety for the time being.

And he met those eyes once more.

"…Are you going to run like your commander bid you to? Or are you really a fool and believe you can go through _me _to save him?" He sneered furiously.

Her intense glower dissipated somewhat as her brows furrowed and her bottom lip was sucked inwards. He wasn't sure which confused and aroused him more—her obvious innocence and puzzlement or the sight of her lip clenched between dull teeth. He wondered what the soft petal would feel like when nipped by _his _teeth…and for a second he was lost in imagining such a taste and texture against his lips. Would she squirm away in pain and fear or would she match him with fierce bites of her own? Would she plea for mercy or would she cry and gasp for release?

Her stern, unwavering voice so different from the befuddlement she wore drew him out of his fantasy.

"I…don't understand what you mean. There is no one in this city that 'commands' me and I obviously am not running away. Such a cowardly action! I'd rather die than deny the glove thrown on the ground. And my purpose here has nothing to do with saving Kidd. I don't need to do such a thing as he is quite capable of protecting himself. But, I can answer one of your questions with surety."

The glare rebounded viciously like the sun reappearing from behind thick clouds.

"I _will _castrate you with your own tool should you call me a fool again."

His curiosity was more than piqued now and his possessiveness escalated to dangerous heights. What was initially a strange compulsion to have her for a moment, a night of what would surely be the greatest and rarest pleasure of his life, was quickly transforming into a hunger, a _need_, to mark her and take her as his own…so that no one else could ever touch her again. She truly was a fool. A lovely, delicious little idiot that was practically offering herself to him. A lamb eagerly bounding towards the slaughter.

"Oh? Will you now?" He purred, his low timbre lazily drifting towards her, and watched with giddy fascination a poorly concealed shiver drift down her spine. In his excitement to claim her, to _conquer_ her, he dropped the unconscious form of…Kidd and hastily raced to her side, ever inspecting her facial expressions. She showed no sign of shock at his inhuman speed or batted an eyelash at the fact that one second he was far from her and now he stood towering over her.

"Yes, I shall. That is…should you force me to." The pretty woman reached a dainty hand out to brush her fingers along the shaft of his scythe, a wicked temptress-like glint appearing in the suddenly darker green of her eyes.

He was not pleased with the effect the sultry action had on him. The hand curled around his scythe tightened in the hopes that it would release the tension in…other areas.

"Hmm…as much as I'd like to test your prowess with a scythe and your promise of making me less of a man, I'm more interested in what you intended to accomplish coming to me unarmed. If you were not inclined to save him, then what exactly drove you here? Do you wish for death?"

Her response was instantaneous and given without a second thought as if it was the most obvious explanation. There was no hint of coyness or malice, but rather an unimaginable amount of sincerity that resonated all the way to the soul he had long forgotten he possessed.

"Die? Me? As if you could kill me. You see my purpose here…that's quite simple, you imbecile. I came to save you, Soul Eater."

Who was the fool again?

Ah, yes, he was. He could see that now. He never had a chance of conquering this place, or her for that matter.

She had come to conquer him…and how effortlessly she did. It only took that short, sweet phrase to bring him to his knees. He knelt before her, bloody, gory scythe falling to the stone with a furious clang as though pronouncing the end of his reign of terror, and reached out blindly. She was there on the floor before him as if expecting this would happen and yanked him into the open warmth of her arms.

What was this pressing _thing_ in his chest? And why did it hurt so badly? Was it a resentful soul striving to break him from the inside out? But her sweet melody informed him otherwise—

"No, dear Soul Eater. It is your heart. Your soul is coming back to life as we speak."

And he fell to her will…just as multitudes had fallen to his throughout the centuries.

He was not allowed to stay within the city walls, which he understood completely, but Maka…she vehemently fought for his rights to a home.

Soul, as she christened him, calmed her after a while, insisting that he could find a place to call home elsewhere. It was not right for him to reside in a place he had nearly destroyed. Besides, he could not bear, now that his heart was beating once more, seeing the faces of those who had survived his onslaught. Worse still were the somber, hateful stares of those who had escaped him…but who lost friends and relatives to him.

The first half of her retort was expected. She erupted in a fiery blaze of vexation and resentment at his submission to the Elders' proclamation. He had not known her long, but her temper was a distinguishing characteristic to any who knew Maka.

"You are not the first to succumb to madness! You are not the first to commit a crime! Neither will you be the last! Who are we to judge who should be forgiven and who should not? Each of us must battle the innate vileness that all harbor inside their souls! And for them to…to decide that _you _don't deserve pardon, but that _others _do? It is disgraceful and shameful and I, for one, will not stand by and watch it!"

Those glittering, exquisite green stones pierced him and touched his soul. They tugged at his heartstrings and their flaming passion almost drove him to a different sort of madness. The desire to devour her did not disappear with the demon she tore out of him. Much to his relief and chagrin.

Her next words, however, completely astonished him and immediately left him craving every inch of her.

"But if they will not waver in your exile and do not intend on allowing you refuge, then I suppose we must pack up and discover a new place to settle in."

His heart, as it often did since he became aware of it, thumped erratically and arduously as he was still not use to the internally beating object.

"…Did you just say 'we?'"

She raised an ashy eyebrow and rolled her verdant eyes in exasperation. Somehow, the pace of his heart increased and his manhood tightened both at her incredulity of the notion of their separation and the sensual, devoted gleam that poured forth from luminous spring-filled orbs.

"Of course, I did, you oaf. You really think that I'd rather stay here in this city full of boring, ignorant pigs instead of go with you? Tell me, Soul, has insanity gripped you once more?"

Yes, yes it had. Only this time…she was the cause of it.

And, like the last time, she was the singular person who could relieve him of it.

Soul surged forwards, wholly intent on subjugating her and removing her volition. He had been certain that without the bloodlust clouding his humanity his desires for her would increase a hundred fold and his limit had finally been breached. If she would not relinquish him to the cruelty and poor excuse for justice in this world, then he thought it merely fair that he repay her in the best kind of way—he would become her slave in mind, body, and soul.

But, some last vestiges of the demon remained and he slyly knew she would not take him as anything less than an equal, a partner.

And what better partner was there than a lover?

His hasty, impulsive action elicited what he prayed was the first of many breathy gasps from her cherry blossom lips.

"Soul! Wh-what do you think you're do-!"

Her first mistake was parting those delicate guards to her heated mouth, gifting him with a teasing glimpse of the slender muscle inside. It was almost too easy, how accessible she was to him. He wasted no time, tired of waiting and restraining himself, and immediately dipped his tongue into her orifice. Soul grinned lecherously as he literally stole her words away.

He would tease her later about how smoothly he bent her will to match his. In a matter of minutes, Maka was flushing and panting heavily, one hand tangled in his argent hair to keep him close and the other gripping his shoulder tightly. When he pressed against the essence of her gender, she moaned and matched it with a thrust of her own.

It seemed that the madness was drowning both of them.

Not that they minded. There are some aspects of humanity's darkest traits that ultimately bring forth a light. Sometimes insanity is conquered, rather than the conqueror.

Soul believed he could produce nothing but luridness and dismal, unrelenting malevolence, but that night, as was Maka's tendency, she taught him he could do so much more. Her cries for him were not of the grief-stricken kind, but the mewls of a woman for a man she loved. The writhing of her limbs and muscles were not the chaotic thrashes of a body's deserting life, but of the intense pleasure coursing through her veins—pleasure from _him_ and only him. And when the dam burst…when she unraveled at the seams and hoarsely shouted his name to the Heavens, he seriously contemplated the rumor that he was a god or spirit from some other realm rather than a lost and wandering soul…though the next second led to him feeling her rippling and clenching around everything he was and he quickly demolished the thought of ever besting her.

Soul whispered her name against the unblemished pale pink skin of her neck and they laid there, content and whole. Soon enough Maka laughed, albeit breathlessly, and licked the shell of his earlobe, the complimentary assault of unease from her laughter and arousal from her soft tongue driving him to an interesting, not necessarily unwanted, state of confusion.

"Was…was I bad? Do you want to try again or-?"

Her mirth washed over his skin in tingling pants, brief chuckles sounding in his ear.

"You are so foolish. Do you need to hear me again to assuage your doubt on a job, might I say, _extremely_ well done? No, you were not 'bad,' Soul, though another…go would be welcomed. I am merely ecstatic that everything happened as I saw it would."

"…What?"

"Veni, vidi, vici, Soul. I came here to wait for you. I saw your arrival and your soul and, as I desired you, I did what all who want do-I conquered."

Honestly, he didn't understand how the rest of the pristine city came to the conclusion that he held any power over her.


End file.
